Like I'm Gonna Lose You
by like-what-was-i-meant-to-do
Summary: Sho thought that nothing would ever change between the two of them... that they would always be at each other's throats, but they would still always have each other. He never knew that he had already lost her. And along with her, himself. However, sometimes even the undeserving get a second chance.
1. Then I Was All Alone

**Hello, all you lovely Skip Beat! fans that are giving this fic a chance. You rock!**

 **I consider myself a veteran in the fan fiction world, though this happens to be my first Skip Beat! (or manga/anime, for that matter) inspired story that I've ever written. *quick bow* Please take care of me!**

 **I don't really see the point in disclaimers, as we all know we come here to read made up stories by rabid fans, most concepts of which have no hope of ever becoming canon. Ahaha, but we can still dream, yes?**

 **I resurrected my writing skills after being inspired by** **my new favorite crack shipping fan-ficker of time - Felicity Dream! (You muuuust read her stuff. I insist.)**

 **I was going through my playlists for inspiration and got hit with this idea. I figured I would start it before I lost my nerve. It's been years since I've genuinely fan-ficked. *sigh of relief* I'm just glad to finally write down one of these weird ideas that clog up my head! I need that brain power for other practical things, you know.**

 **As always, I would appreciate a fav/follow or review. I need to know if pairings like this interest anyone else out there! I love the tale as old as freaking time Ren x Kyoko pairing but I swear it's been like 13 years. IT'S TIME TO MOVE ON. Let's write something else! Haha, no offense meant. I love all the wonderful work in this fandom.**

 **Without further ado...**

 ** _Loosely inspired by the Song, 'Like I'm Gonna Lose You,' by John Legend and Meghan Trainor._**

 _I found myself dreaming_

 _In silver and gold_

 _Like a scene from a movie_

 _That every broken heart knows._

 _We were walking on moonlight_

 _And you pulled me close._

 _Split second and you disappeared_

 _And then I was all alone..._

* * *

If anyone in the Japanese entertainment scene paid as much attention the deadened look in a certain singer's eyes as they did to the label of his designer coat, they would find reason for concern. However, as Sho Fuwa was known for his untouchably cool indifference, no one thought anything was amiss.

Under the assault of a thousand flashes, his face always appeared even more smooth and angular than usual, an uncommon advantage that greatly contributed to his current stardom. There were no bad angles when it came to Fuwa. The camera - and an accompanying legion of female fans - loved him. Unfortunately, the only person whose love meant anything to the singer was drifting further and further out of reach, and he was drowning the in wake she left behind.

It had started as little things, small signs of progress, and he, like a fool, thought he still had all the time in the world. A magazine spread, a few interviews here and there, a modeling contract for some girly cosmetic crap she no doubt had been in throws of ecstasy over. The makeup gig led to other modeling opportunities, the modeling presented her in a more favorable light to the public, and that favorable light hadn't been overlooked by casting directors. Directors who happened to see the golden opportunity that awaited them, to use the cutie-honey known for her overwhelming, intense acting in a role that broke the mold of the villains and antiheroes she was known for portraying.

And now, here they were, at the same award ceremony, in the same hotel, yet somehow farther apart than they had ever been. Over time, it became harder and harder for Sho to track her down. Her schedule was always up in the air, her manager was an overbearing banshee who protected her privacy like a national trade secret, and she rarely had time for class. When Pochi had been unable to give him any solid information, even at the promise of another 'hot kiss', he knew something else had to be done.

He never knew, though, that his methods would lead to such little success. He showed up at her Darumaya more often than his pride would care to recall. He only caught her a handful of times. It was frustrating, even humiliating, to sense her increasing lack of interest and attention.

" _I saw your new commercial."_ He'd said once, stirring his tea in an irregular, lazy motion.

She'd wiped a trail of flour from her cheek and glanced briefly over her shoulder. " _Shotaro, if that's all you're going to order, please take a table with fewer seats. We have other customers waiting."_

Annoyed by her placid response, he'd leaned closer. " _I'm surprised they thought to pick someone like you for that brand. Then again, all artists enjoy working with a blank canvas."_

" _Yes, that's what makes me an ideal model. I can look like anyone,"_ had been her ready response. She'd cleared the table beside him efficiently and turned around. " _Now, if you're ready for the bill, head over to the counter. Like I said, we're busy today."_

He still remembered the dumbfounded expression that stole across his face. It was an expression he hadn't been able to shake until he arrived home, much later. Since when did Kyoko speak so assuredly about herself? Since when did she treat _him_ with civility, for that matter? Any other person would have assumed it meant they'd gotten in her good graces. But Sho had had an irritating, sinking feeling that it meant something entirely different.

The manic reporters and paparazzi who lined the red carpet snapped him from his reverie, with all their loud and overlapping questions on pointless subjects.

" _Fuwa-san, what are you wearing?"_

" _Fuwa-san, what are your thoughts on your award nomination?"_

" _Fuwa-san, is it true that you're dropping your single, 'Heartbreaker', after the show tonight?"_

" _Fuwa-san, is there any truth to the rumors surrounding you and the lead actress in last spring's hit film, 'Akatsuki No Yona'?"_

 _That_ question got a rise out of him, much to his chagrin. He had resolved to school his features to be indifferent on this topic. It was embarrassing to have such an immediate slip up. Shoko had told him what _not_ to say while she grilled him on the way to the hotel, but the details were now muddled and vague. He remembered only one statement, though unsure of what context it was used in, and declared it loudly:

"I can neither confirm nor deny that. Let the evidence speak for itself."

This, of course, invited whole slew of other uncomfortable questions, which effectively drowned out an irate screech from the long-suffering Shoko Aki, who waited on the sidelines. Sho, however, whose ears were finely tuned to pick up the nagging sound, quickly finished his walk and escaped the range of the gossip-thirsty predators and into the range of his blood-thirsty manager.

"Sho!" She yanked on his sleeve and pulled him towards the hotel's entrance. "I don't understand what's going through that head of yours! How on earth do you think _that_ statement is going to minimize gossip about the two of you? You may as well have said yes!" Shoko was stomping hard enough at this point to threaten the integrity of her sling back heels.

Sho, who was aggravated by the line of questioning, and even more aggravated at being treated like a grade schooler, yanked back. "Like I care what they say about me and that shapeshifting demon! What a joke!"

Shoko stopped and swiveled to face him again. She bore an unusually solemn expression. "Sho, you…" His manager wiped a hand over her perspiring forehead and started again. " _Sho._ It's time for you to _stop pretending_ and grow up. You keep pulling stunts that cause this level of gossip, and then act like it was nothing. You need to be honest with _yourself_ , and figure out what the hell it is you want. I am sick of cleaning up after you, and the last thing Kyoko-san needs is you finding ways to drag her through the mud when her career is just taking off! Get your act together!"

Stunned, Sho was left mute and wide eyed at the hotel's entrance while Shoko stalked away, muttering about finding his "ungrateful ass" a decent seat. Before he could fully digest the uncharacteristic scolding, the reporters behind him erupted into deafening chaos.

" _It's her! Hurry, unmute the mic!"_

" _Get a good shot of that gown!"_

" _She's not alone! Here, give me a boost. We have to capture this!"_

Sho craned his neck to see who the source of the commotion was, and immediately wished he hadn't. Why'd _she_ have to get here right after he did? He had hoped not to cross paths with her at all! But, the longer his eyes remained on her approaching figure, the less he believed himself.

Kyoko smiled gently at the flashing lights around her, tucking a piece of hair behind her exposed right ear. The other side of her face was curtained in brilliant red waves, the style of her breakout character, Princess Yona; a role which resulted in her current nomination and invitation to the same event as himself. Though Sho had fervently pretended otherwise, in reality, he had gone to see the film more than once. Alone. In disguise. But several times, nonetheless.

It was an effective method of torture, and one that Sho made no attempts to kick. Her casting as the delicate and sheltered princess had shocked the Asian entertainment scene all the way up to the premiere of _Akatsuki no Yona._ The film's well known director, Seiji Shingai, insisted that he had worked briefly with the unusual actress in the past, and that she was perfectly suited for the role. And, while most in the industry had the highest respect for Shingai's work, attention to detail, and his judgement, there were still quite a few who questioned the decision. Kyoko was gaining popularity fast as a spokesperson of a prominent makeup line for teenage girls, but she was still mostly referred to as a memorably infamous antagonist.

Shingai never retracted his original statement, though, and never lowered anyone's expectations. "I had an endless list of actresses that could have pulled off a pretty princess in distress. But that's not what I needed for this film. Pretty princesses are a dime in a dozen. I needed an actress who could show me what a gritty, betrayed, and exiled princess looks like. A young woman torn from the only life she's ever known, by a person she thought she loved. Someone who has to trade a kimono for a cloak, a fan for a bow, and ignorance for understanding. I needed that intensity - and that heartbrokenness. I needed to believe her. And I believed Kyoko-san. I am confident you will as well." Director Shingai's words stirred even more conversation and anticipation for the film, and not even critics were left disappointed.

 _Akatsuki no Yona_ grossed more money its opening weekend than three competing big-budget films grossed altogether. Its unusual lead actress, all-star male casting, amazing cinematography, and fast paced action made the movie an almost overnight, nationwide, and eventually international, success. And here they were, at the end of December, nominated for Picture of the Year, Outstanding Achievement in Cinematography, Outstanding Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role, Outstanding Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role, and for the national Popularity Award. It had clearly received the most nominations of any film competing. Tonight was recognized as a huge night for the cast and crew.

And the actress in question represented her film with all the elegance and grace of a true princess. Her ballgown, with it's full skirt, sheer sleeves, and intricate, strategic embroidery, made her look like nothing short of royalty. This was a fact not even Shotaro could pretend to ignore. The blush pink fabric only accentuated her fair skin. Her striking red hair framed her pixie-like face and made all of her features stand out. She stood poised and proud, unwavering under the hot, blinding lights. And when a tall, sleek gentleman snaked long arms around her torso and rested his head on her shoulder, she neither flinched nor jerked out of his grasp.

Sho felt a horrible, raw twisting in his gut. The sight made him so inexplicably angry; angry enough to charge across the red carpet, before hundreds of cameras, and start a fight that could end his career. He wavered where he stood, shifting uncertainly, almost manically, back and forth. Heel-to-toe, heel-to-toe. The press naturally ate up the gift that was being given to them, and threw out as many questions as they could with their limited oxygen supply.

" _Kyoko-san!_ _Tsuruga-san! This is your first official appearance as a couple. How long have you been seeing each other?"_

" _Were you keeping your relationship a secret?"_

" _Did your romance blossom on the set of 'Akatsuki no Yona'? Is this a new development?"_

" _Are you seeing one another exclusively?"_

" _What do you have to say about the rumors surrounding Kyoko-san and pop star, Sho Fuwa?"_

At this, Ren Tsuruga lifted his head from where it had been comfortably nestled - the crook of Kyoko's neck. A relaxed smile crossed his face, as if he had just picked up on the line of questioning and found it amusing. The actor glanced down at his girlfriend for approval before responding. She gave a slight nod.

"I have nothing to say regarding the stories about Kyoko and Fuwa-san. There is no romantic sort of relationship between them, if that's what you're suggesting. I know that for certain." The actor chuckled, unwinding his arms from her torso and slipping her hand into his. "We are exclusive, and look forward to starting our lives together. That's all we have to say on the matter."

With that, the pair continued their walk down the carpet in silence, ignoring any further, desperate inquiries towards their private life, posing for pictures, and lost in their own little world. Just observing them made Sho nauseated. Everything around him was a blur. A too-fast, off-center carousel with no exit.

' _We look forward to starting our lives together.' Like hell you do. Pinhead actor._ Sho thought he despised the self-satisfied bastard before, but he'd clearly underestimated his own capacity for hatred. And Kyoko! How could she stand there so calmly, so happy? How could she let that pretty-boy hang onto her and grope her so shamelessly? She swore she wouldn't allow herself to become so stupid in love again! How could she break her promise to him with such ease? Why did seeing her so happy with someone else make him feel this betrayed?

"Sho?"

He jerked backwards, completely taken off guard. How or when she had gotten within touching distance was a mystery to Sho.

Kyoko eyed him inquisitively, before clearing her throat. She glanced briefly over her shoulder. He followed her line of sight and saw Tsuruga, several yards away, posing with a group of _Akatsuki no Yona_ cast members. The press were going crazy over the reverse harem incarnate. The majority male cast of the movie had been a part of its massive success. Heavy hitters like Tsuruga, Hidehito Kijima, and Hiromune Koga were certainly hard to ignore.

Presumably satisfied her beaux was out of range, Kyoko gave him her full attention. Prepared for verbal assault, Sho gritted his teeth and readied his fiercest scowl.

"Congratulations on your nomination tonight, Shotaro."

Sho blinked once. Then twice. "What?" _What did the soul-sucking demon say?_

Kyoko smiled just the tiniest bit. Amusement colored her expression. He felt his heartbeat clumsily skip a beat before resuming its harried pace. Why was his face so warm all of a sudden? Had he caught something on the flight over?

"I just wanted to congratulate you on the nomination for your soundtrack. I think it made that movie exceptional. You've really outdone yourself." Her tone was honest and direct. Like she was genuinely complimenting him. Like she might even be a little bit proud of him.

Sho was mortified to feel a crimson heat crawl over his neck and face. It was pathetically obvious in his crisp, white tux. Why did he even wear the stupid thing? He was supposed to be a devil! Why did he feel the need to dress up like some white knight?

"Well, er…" He forced himself to get a grip. "Yes. It's about time someone recognized my talents for what they are. I expect my upcoming project to receive twice as much recognition. This is trivial in comparison." For whatever reason, the words didn't bring as much satisfaction as he thought they would. In fact, they seemed empty and contrived. Sho wasn't accustomed to the sensation of wanting to eat one's words.

"Right… " Kyoko responded, with all the politeness of a stewardess. "Of course." She clasped her hands briefly, then let them fall to her sides.

And with that, they were thrust into a total minute of uncomfortable silence.

 _Say something,_ a voice in his head shouted at him. _Anything!_ Of course, whenever those words echoed in the back of Sho Fuwa's mind, what eventually escaped his mouth was rarely anything worth repeating. This instance was no exception.

"I owe _you_ some congratulations as well, it seems." His needly tone must have tipped Kyoko off to his less than congratulatory aura. Her mouth dipped into a much sterner line, as if daring him to make a scene. This only egged the singer on. "I didn't realize what an exceptional _liar_ you were. I guess that's where those so-called acting talents came from, huh?"

Kyoko grimaced at the insult to her passion. He could tell it was taking everything in her not to give in to the dark rage only he could draw out of her. The notion satisfied him immensely. However, when she finally looked him dead-on again, Sho was disappointed to see a carefully constructed control in her expression.

"I don't know what you mean, Shotaro." The indifference in her eyes, towards his words, towards _him_ , pissed Sho off.

"Don't go saying that name whenever you please, idiot! Do you want to ruin my career?" He glared at her in challenge. "What am I saying? Of course you do, soul-sucking demon."

"No, Sho- _taro_ , I have no interest in ruining your career. Your career is none of my concern. We aren't even in the same field." The look in her eyes was cool and condescending. She looked like a completely different person with a simple change of expression. And this person was looking _down_ on him. It pissed Sho off even more.

"That's funny. Because ruining my career was your whole stupid reason for getting into show-biz in the first place! Without me, you'd be waiting tables and flipping burgers, the same as before. You _owe_ your career to _me!"_

"I owe you _nothing_."

He flinched at the ice in her tone, at her glacial stare. When he down looked into hard, amber eyes that he didn't recognize, Sho suddenly felt very, very alone. The Kyoko of his childhood had been his cheerleader, his champion, his pillar... in a home - a town - where his destiny had been laid out for him even before he was born.

The one person who had ever really known him, had ever treated him like he was going to be somebody before he _was_ somebody… because of his selfishness … now looked at him with eyes of cold indifference. Gone were the sparkling, innocent eyes that worshipped her 'Sho-chan.' Gone was even the blistering hatred and resentment of Kyoko. This was someone he didn't know, and he didn't fully understand the fear it caused in him.

"But you made me a _promise_ …" He grinded out, startled by the unsteadiness of his own voice. "You were never going to become that stupid, love-obsessed woman again. You said he was your precious _senpai,_ who you _respected_ and _revered._ What a bunch of crap! You're such a liar!" Why was he getting so worked up over this? What happened to his cool-guy persona? Why did he feel so out of control?

"Sho!" Kyoko hissed, dragging him forcefully into the private lobby of the hotel, and out of the sight of potential gossip-mongers. "You are being a _child._ " Her harsh whisper almost echoed in the silence of the expansive room, a striking contrast to the chaotic whirlwind outside.

"And you're a big phony! Acting like you've changed, when you're just the same as before! Throwing your life away for yet another guy! Just go back to Kyoto where you belong!" He made a grab for her sheerly covered forearm. To his shock, Kyoko met his arm halfway and gripped his hand roughly in her own. For such small fingers, her hold was like a vise.

"I don't owe you an explanation, Shotaro." She sighed, but kept just as unrelenting eye contact as she did her grip. "But I _will_ tell you this. Kyoko _Mogami_ made you that promise, over a year ago. And not in the best circumstances, I might add. _She_ agreed to those ridiculous terms. And _she_ apologizes for whatever offense you think she's committed towards you. However, I _..._ " Kyoko pulled Sho down to her eye level. " _I am not Kyoko Mogami."_

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He breathed out, almost inaudibly, afraid of fracturing the fraying thread that still held them together. She let out her own quiet breath.

It was too late.

She let him go. And just like that, the tiny thread snapped.

Suddenly, it was like the world around them had come back to life. Celebrities, managers, film crews, producers, directors, and significant others swarmed through the lobby. Hotel staff rushed out to meet the needs of those demanding attention. The world was no longer theirs alone. Their hole in time had closed. Why did it feel like it was never coming back?

"Sho." Kyoko said it simply, with neither malice nor affection. It was a made up name for a made up person. Her soft voice was nearly drowned out by the bustling crowd.

" _Kyoko Mogami_ does not exist."

Sho attempted to get closer, but she only backed away.

"I'm just Kyoko." The girl - no, woman - gave him a sad smile. A smile full of memories, regrets, and things that would forever remain unsaid. How could one smile manage to be so terrifying?

He reached for her one more time. "I don't under-"

"The girl you knew is gone. She is never going back to Kyoto. You're never going to see her again." She grasped his hand for only a moment, as if she could squeeze out everything she wanted to say and be done with it.

"I wanted to thank you for all of the good times that you gave me. For making my childhood a bit brighter, if only for a little while. I want you to know, from this moment on, I will forget all the bad times, and I will think very seldomly of the good ones. Those are Mogami's memories, and they have no further place in my life. _Kyoko_ has new memories to make… This is goodbye, Shotaro."

His heart seized in his chest, and Sho couldn't make himself breath normally again. Was this what it was like to hyperventilate? Why did it feel like drowning in air? Why was he suffocating?

"Y- you're…" He choked on his words. "Are you going to forget about me too? Are you abandoning me?" What were these ridiculous things he was spouting off? Sho Fuwa would never lower himself to this level... But these were the words of Shotaro.

Kyoko frowned at him. Though the expression was gentle this time. Almost pitying. Why did she have to look at him like he was some injured animal? Why couldn't she look at him - for once, not as a prince, or an enemy, or a rival - but as a man?

"You never needed me before, Shotaro..." She softly replied. "You'll be alright without me."

 _That's not true. That's not true. That's NOT TRUE!_ Why couldn't he say anything!?

"I- I…"

" _Kyoko!"_

They both jumped and turned around.

Ren Tsuruga. Sho had completely forgotten the cursed guy. Why did he have to choose now to storm in? The last person he wanted witnessing his own desperation was that pinhead actor.

When Kyoko's sad expression melted into one of pure warmth and affection, Sho felt a sickening blow to the gut. Had she looked at _him_ that way once? It had been so long ago, it seemed, he could barely remember. Before he had time to even collect himself, Tsuruga was upon them.

"Honey, are you okay?"

Sho was startled to hear the question in crisp English. Tsuruga was so focused on the woman in front of him, he seemed to forget that he had an audience. "I took my eyes off you for a minute, and you disappeared!"

The actor grasped Kyoko's hands tenderly in his own, seeming to inspect her for injuries, or even a hair out of place, before turning his barely concealed rage upon the man beside them.

"What do you want, _Fuwa?_ Causing those ridiculous rumors wasn't enough for you? You're trying to make a scene _here_ as well? You've got balls, I'll give you that, you little sh-"

"Kuon, enough."

Sho didn't know if he was more surprised by her bizarre nickname for the actor, or the fact that her soft command was enough keep the monstrously tall man in check. Tsuruga drew back from the singer, but didn't loosen his grip on Kyoko.

Instead, he lifted her left hand slowly to his mouth and gave her palm a firm kiss.

Even _she_ seemed a little bit startled by the random act, until they both realized, in the same moment, the true purpose behind the move. From this angle, Sho could clearly see the delicate, silver band that encircled Kyoko's ring finger. When Tsuruga finally lifted his mouth from her hand, without breaking eye contact with Sho, he easily rotated the band around.

Now the striking, indigo stone was facing out.

Where everyone could see it.

Where anyone could see what it meant and whose it was.

Shotaro was going to throw up.

"What… is that?" The words came out in a strangled whisper. So different from his normal, self-assured tone.

"What does it look like?" Tsuruga responded harshly, his narrowed eyes never leaving Shotaro's.

Kyoko frowned at the actor, putting a hand on his tense arm and murmuring something in his ear. He glanced at her, the harsh look slightly softening. "He was going to find out one way or another. Better to get it over with now, than when he's cornered you somewhere else, and I'm not around."

She looked back at Shotaro with sad eyes. Did he look so fragile that he needed her pity? Was he that pathetic? He wanted to scream so badly that he couldn't even feel the way his own hands were trembling. Why did this hurt so freaking bad?

Kyoko took a steadying breath and kept her gaze trained on him. "We're getting married in the spring, Sho. I'd rather you hear it from me, than from a tabloid. I'll be going to America for a bit... We... probably won't see one another for a while."

The words rang mercilessly in Sho's ears, even as he blindly backed away, even as he heard her call his name, and his manager after her… _Married in the spring... Going to America… This is goodbye, Shotaro…_

 _Goodbye?_

He wasn't ready for goodbye. Not even close. There were so many things he still needed to tell her. Things he had to ask… This could not be it. After all those years, this could not be their ending. She couldn't just disappear from his life. He wasn't ready.

 _I'm not ready. I'm not ready._

 _Please don't go._

 _I need you._

Shotaro saw nothing of his surroundings as he fled the hotel. He didn't know who he ran into or where he was going. It was like he had ceased to exist the moment those three words had left her mouth.

 _This is goodbye._

When pop star Sho Fuwa stepped off the sidewalk on the evening of December 21st, in his best white tuxedo, he didn't see the red stop signal on the crosswalk, he didn't see stoplight in the intersection turn green, and he never saw the speeding SUV barreling down the left-lane, with its distracted occupant more invested in the entertainment headlines on his phone than on the road.

And when metal and flesh collided, when onlookers screamed, and sirens wailed, Shotaro had only those three words left on his mind.

 _This is goodbye._

 _ **~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~** _

The simple, white clock on his equally simple, white wall struck twelve.

A man leafed through the many files on his desk.

While some were a crisp white, others were a more weathered beige. They were what remained of yesterday's batch.

To a passerby, it would seem that the man was combing carefully, even lovingly, through the stacks of paper, and they would not be mistaken. However, what the gentleman had in his possession was far more valuable than simple stacks of paper. No one but himself and his two closest associates had access to them. They were precious files, indeed.

He liked to organize them by location on some days, on others, he preferred alphabetically. Of course, when you went through millions of such files on a yearly basis, one needed some sort of system to keep them in line.

When the man studied the pages before him, one could observe a happy smile on his lips at one stage, and later, perhaps an aggravated shake of the head. More often than the man would like, the final pages of files left him looking grieved and tired. But there were plenty of happy ones too.

" _Katy Kursech…"_ He murmured, flipping through the pages of the aged, yellow file. "106. She left behind three children, ten grandchildren, fifteen great-grandchildren, and two great-great grandchildren. Well, I'll be. _Donated 100% of her assets to the poor and underprivileged youth of the inner-city_. I'm sure ol' Bentley had a good little tantrum over that one. Maybe now he'll place less value on money and appreciate what he already has. Well done, Katy!"

A firm knock interrupted the man's one-sided conversation.

"Come in."

A younger gentleman in a casual brown dress shirt entered the room. The sleeves were rolled up and his tie hung loosely around his neck. "Hey, Pop."

The older man smiled at his son and associate. "Ah, you're here. Quickly, come. Come read about what ol' Katy Kursech did with her millions! You'll get a kick out of it."

The younger man smiled and moved his father's right side, leaning over to see the paper. "Huh. That is pretty funny. Was Old Man Bentley surprised?"

The older man chuckled. "You bet! That old curmudgeon. About time something didn't go his way." He shut the file and patted it affectionately, before placing it in the pile closest to him. "What has you on this side of the office, bud?"

The younger man let out a small sigh and handed his father another file. This one was still a clear white, only in the beginning stages of aging. The older man frowned and ran his hands over it. "This is from today's? Does it require immediate attention?"

His son could tell the whiteness bothered him. The person had been in the prime of their life. The young ones always made him a bit sad.

"Well, yes and no." The younger man took the file back and flipped towards the end. "Tell me what you think when you read this."

The older man leaned closer to his son and read the file's final contents. When he was finished, he solemnly leaned forward in his chair. "It was too soon. That's not what I had intended for him."

The younger man nodded, laying the papers down on the desk. "But it was his poor decisions that led him to that point."

His father nodded. "Yes. I had _planned_ for _him_ to be with her originally. It's always interesting to see how humans like to warp their own destinies. He would have been very happy, I think. But he never developed the character he needed to keep her. I meant him for so much more than that."

The younger man rubbed his stubbled chin. "Yes… I was a bit disturbed by it myself. She'll take it pretty hard."

The older man had to agree. That girl was tough little cookie, but she still felt things very strongly. All the acting in the world couldn't fool his old eyes.

"I hate to see her in even more pain."

His son picked up the last page, browsing its contents again. "He certainly seemed to be on the verge of something… some kind of change… before the end. But that doesn't warrant he be given a do-over. What do you think?"

The elder associate clasped his weathered hands together and leaned his elbows on the desk. He pondered on it long and hard.

Did the boy deserve another go? The answer to that was pretty straightforward.

No.

However, did he want to see what that boy was capable of, were he given the reset?

"Well, son, you know I'm a fan of second chances."

* * *

 **End of Part 1**

 **Thank you for reading, you beautiful person you!**

 **I have a lot to say regarding my thought process in this story, but I'll leave it alone, and let you draw your own conclusions from the different symbolism and whatnot. I intend for this story to have two or three parts, so bear with me! I hope this introductory chapter was satisfying enough!**

 **I would, however, like to say that if you have never read or watched _Akatsuki no Yona_ (Yona of the Dawn), please (whenever you have the spare time) DO! I thought about it, what kind of movie should be Kyoko's huge breakout star role... and I thought, why not give her that princess role she's always wanted? Yona is literally the most appropriate princess role Kyoko could receive. The character captures the perfect amount of cuteness, loyalty, intensity, and general badassery that I think Kyoko projects very well. Plus, with the right hair style, they look pretty similar. And, with Yona, you get a massive reverse harem! It's a win-win! Haha.  
**

 **If you are familiar with the Yona universe, then I'll tell you my secret. I did not cast Ren as the broody bodyguard, forever-in-unrequited-love (or is he?), Hak. Though, on the outside, that makes the most sense. I actually intended him for the role of the treacherous Su-won. Despite the guy being a borderline sociopath, I think he and Ren actually share many similar personality traits, and it would a more challenging role that would broaden his acting abilities. In my fic, Ren is the one who was nominated for the Best Actor in a Supporting Role for being Su-won. That's how much faith I have in him! LOL.  
**

 **And I actually cast Koga, in my mind, as Hak. (If anyone cares.) (*I DO*)**

 **Look at me, thinking ahead! Lol, though in all seriousness, I would definitely consider a rom-com fan fiction for this movie arc in the future! Are you kidding! (And yes, you may steal the idea. I care more about getting major FEELS than I do about hogging concepts.)**

 **Thanks again and hit that review button like it's going outta style!**

 **Love,**

 **A Bagel**


	2. Not Promised Tomorrow

**Hello, little darlings. I want to give a special thanks to zealith, ktoll9, NewUserNamesAreHard, sunshinehat, CarolinaEirasSa, WOLFJADE28, 2 angryunicorns (thank you, by the way, Ren DEFINITELY is suited for the sociopathic role, I have no doubts), and Guest! So sweet of you guys to read and review. I appreciate it!**

 **A special note to 'Guest',**

 **My immediate thought after reading your review… "Say that to my FACE, ya limp noodle!" Ahaha, but I know you didn't mean any harm by it, so I'll put my Mushu doll away.**

 **As for what you said about the pairing not being especially rare, I understand what you mean, but I also think it's a matter of perspective.**

 **Lol, I assure you I am aware that Sho is the second most shipped. To be honest, he wasn't my first choice and is by no means my favorite side character. However, it was the most developed idea I had created at the time.**

 **I consider it rare because, while I have read just about every Sho x Kyoko story out there, it would take my entire life to read all of the Kyoko x Ren stories available. In my mind, any non Kyoko x Ren ship constitutes as rare.**

 **Ahaha, but because I would hate to threaten the integrity of the Rare Kyoko Love Fest Challenge, I removed it from the challenge for the time being. I will return with something a little more unusual and you'll wonder what kind of monster you created!**

 **So without further ado, Part 2!**

 _ **Loosely inspired by the Song, 'Like I'm Gonna Lose You,' by John Legend and Meghan Trainor.** _

_I woke up in tears_

 _With you by my side._

 _A breath of relief_

 _And I realized_

 _No, we're not promised tomorrow…_

* * *

Shotaro jerked awake.

His heart raced, like it was trying to beat a hole through his chest. He gasped for air, gripping the armrests on the sides of the bed, tense and shaking.

"Oh… my god…" He groaned, after a wave of intense pain ran up his back and through his skull.

"Watch it, now. I'm not someone to be so casually addressed."

Shotaro jumped, looking for the source of the gravelly voice. His eyes landed on an old man in the corner of the room, resting in a plush chair. The man wore a white physician's coat and had an unusual, gold stethoscope hanging from his neck. He was sturdily built, with deeply tanned skin, a salt and pepper beard, and a weathered face.

"Wh-what?" Shotaro managed, struggling to sit up in his bed, but unable to bear the pain shooting up and down his spine.

"I'm just pulling your leg, son. So serious. You'll be a wrinkled old fart by the time you're twenty with an expression like that." The old man chuckled, "Try to relax." He stood from his chair and set down the paperwork in his hands, approaching the bed in the center of the room.

"Ah, Shotaro Fuwa… Age 19, Blood Type O, talents… singing and songwriting, notable instrumental skill… favorite food, strawberry pudding… distinguishing character traits… narcissism and obsessive behavior… I'm just kidding, it doesn't say that… well, technically, it does, but-"

"Who are _you_? Where am I?" the singer demanded, struggling to regain his bearings. He recognized nothing around him. This wasn't Shoko's place. Where the hell was he?

"Well, this isn't hell, Shotaro. And you should thank your lucky stars that it isn't, with your rap sheet." The older man responded glibly, tucking a hand in his coat pocket.

The boy blinked, trying to shake the disorientation that seemed to muddle his brain. "I didn't say anything about…"

"Nevermind that," the man interrupted with a sigh, inspecting a pair of monitors mounted beside the narrow bed. His amused expression grew solemn very quickly. "That was quite the final act, kiddo. You always had to go out in style, didn't you? Though I'm sure that's not what you had in mind."

"What are you going on about?" Shotaro complained, agitated by his own confusion and discomfort. The sparse white room was unfamiliar. He was sure he'd never been there before. Unless… he slowly took in the monitors covered in stats and charts he didn't understand. The bed underneath him, with its thin sheets and tough mattress. The shiny, tiled floor. The skinny little tube taped to his arm.

"What is this!?" He shouted, jerking the offending tube and nonplussed to find it still firmly attached to his skin. "Is this a hospital? Why am I _here_? I was supposed to… I was… I was…"

Where had he been? How did…?

"Well, technically speaking, you've died." This was a new voice.

Shotaro froze, unable to process the words. Died. Died... _Died?_

A younger doctor approached, the clothes under his white coat more casual and mussed than his companion's. . "Believe me," He lifted his eyes from a white clipboard and faintly smiled. It wasn't exactly a happy smile, but rather more… understanding. "I know a thing or two about death… but yours was rather gruesome, as far as they go. I'm sure you feel like crap."

"Really," Shotaro let out an incredulous breath, followed by a hiss of pain. "I hadn't _noticed._ "

Neither doctor commented, instead opting to examine the screens on the wall.

Irritated at being ignored, Shotaro cleared his throat. He regretted it immensely, though, as it felt like swallowing sandpaper. "What hospital is this? Where's my manager? Where _are_ we?"

The older gentleman finally turned around and shook his head. "It's not where you are that's the question, but where you're _going._ "

"Don't talk in riddles, old man!"

The doctor grinned, rubbing a hand along his bearded chin. "Old? I think I look rather fetching for my age." The younger doctor snorted at this. " _Hush, you._ " The older man said, before turning back to Shotaro.

"What I am trying to tell you is important, so pay attention, little brat." How the insult could sound so endearing coming out of this guy's mouth, Sho had no idea. "I am giving you a choice. Most people don't get this option, so you're quite lucky I didn't stick you at the bottom of the pile with the others. I am giving you this choice for one simple reason."

He now had the singer's attention.

"You done messed up, that's why."

"I what?" Shotaro responded, not really following.

The older man grimaced, looking to his companion for help, who only shrugged in reply. "Getting mowed down by a speeding vehicle was _not_ my intention for you, kiddo. Being a giant butthead wasn't in the plan, either... Nor was tossing away the girl I _gave you_ as a soulmate… excuse me, _intended_ soulmate, for groupies and bimbos. Now I feel bad I stuck her with you, bless her little heart."

"Are you… are you talking about… _Kyoko_?" When he said the name, a fresh wave of pain washed over him. This time, it wasn't only physical. Then the rest of the man's words caught up with him. "Wait. Mowed down? What do you mean _mo_ -"

"I mean flattened. Kaput."

"Like a pancake." The younger doctor added.

Shotaro cringed. "I still feel very much alive."

The older man ran a hand absentmindedly over the stethoscope on his neck. He turned to the screens on the wall in silence and began scrolling through what appeared to be a video timeline. The stills flashed by so quickly that Shotaro could barely make out what they were. The doctor tapped the spacebar on his keyboard fervently until he found what he'd been searching for.

"Ah, here it is. December 21st... 8:00, no, 8:01 p.m. Watch carefully."

Shotaro craned his neck, with much discomfort, to see what the man was referring to. What he saw made him blanche the color of his bedsheet. The busy intersection. A light turning green. A speeding vehicle. A dazed fool stumbling into the street in a flashy white suit.

Blood.

So much of it, so suddenly. Shotaro wanted to avert his eyes, but found he could not drag them from the carnage on the screen. The SUV barrelled into the person like he was made of paper and string. He flew into the air, slamming into the windshield, over the roof of the car, and rolled back onto the concrete like a weightless doll, but the mess left behind proved he was very much a human being. Vehicles slammed to a stop, onlookers screamed, pointed, and livestreamed. No one approached the broken heap sprawled out on the pavement.

The pristine white suit had been so easily painted a gruesome, crimson red.

Shotaro's heart seized in his chest, as he grasped the armrests of his bed in viselike grip. His breaths wouldn't come regularly. Each one seemed to trip over the next, in a fight to escape his lungs. Seeing one's own demise had a tendency to do that to a person.

"So you see?" The older man paused the video, turning back around. "Kaput. Any questions?"

Shotaro shuddered in the bed, struggling to wrap his mind around what he had seen, trying to fight the increasingly apparent and horrifying truth.

He was a dead man.

"Son," The older doctor interrupted his thoughts and sat down beside him. Sho couldn't meet that deep, searching gaze, opting instead to study the generic pattern on his blanket.

" _Son_." The older man repeated, brushing sweaty strands of bleach-blonde hair from the singer's face. Shotaro didn't understand why he was comforted by the action, and by a stranger no less. He looked up hesitantly. The man gave him a soft smile. What seemed to be lifetimes of hopes and regrets swam in his dark gray eyes.

"I didn't want that to happen. You understand? That wasn't what I wrote. I wanted more for you. I still do. But I need you to tell me something."

"What?" Shotaro replied, surprised at the dryness of his throat.

The man picked up a glass that rested on his bedside table. It was filled with cool water, its surface slick with condensation. Sho hadn't noticed it before, but accepted the gift gratefully.

"Can I trust you, Shotaro?"

The singer coughed on his water, sloshing his glass precariously. "Trust me with what?"

"Can I trust you not to make the same mistakes twice?" The man sat back, staring at him contemplatively. "Can I trust you with _her_?"

Shotaro knew what he meant, this time, and didn't have to ask. "Why bother giving me another chance?" He glanced away, trying to hide the weight of his embarrassment and regret. "If you know so much, then you'd get that she doesn't want anything to do with me. I'm sure she's happier now with me gone. It's pointless. This is beyond fixing, old man."

The doctor rubbed his hairy chin. "Beyond fixing is my specialty."

Sho grounded his teeth in frustration. "Kyoko _hates_ me. No, worse than that - she doesn't give a damn about me! She's got a fiance, an amazing future… Her world is a better place without me in it. _Don't you get it_?" He was disgusted to hear his own voice crack and see his vision swim. _Tears? What the hell? How embarrassing._

"Ten bucks says you're wrong."

Sho glared at the man, trying to force the wetness from his eyes. "Excuse me?"

The doctor shook his head, as if Shotaro were being impossible. "Just watch."

"Watch what?"

Instead of answering, the older man leaned over and unpaused the screen beside them. Shotaro had no further desire to see what he looked liked splayed across the concrete, but was shocked into silence to see the frames that followed.

A flash of pale pink crossing the screen. The hem of a fluffy tulle skirt soaking up the blood - his blood. Amber eyes widening with horror and disbelief. A delicate face twisting into an expression of pure panic... a shrill scream that pierced him to his core.

"Sho!"

" _Kyoko…_ " He breathed, unconsciously leaning towards her voice.

"What... have you… what have you _done!_? _SHO!_ "

He flinched at the heart wrenching cry, almost unable to believe it was coming from the same girl who had once glared at him with such unquenchable hatred. Shotaro glanced anxiously towards the doctor, willing him to make the painful sound stop, begging him to turn off the images of _her_ clutching his bloodied coat and begging him not to die.

It was too much. It was all too much.

"I don't understand." He whispered hoarsely, the dryness of his throat back with a vengeance.

"Well, you never really understood women. So that doesn't surprise me." The older man took pity on him and put an end to the timeline, making the haunting scene fade back to a generic screensaver. "Kyoko spent all of that time angry with you because she was _hurt_ , kiddo. For all the raging, theatrical diatribe, she never truly hated you. At least, not from my perspective."

"Are we talking about the same girl?"

"Oh, trust me," The doctor chuckled, "She _believed_ she hated you. That, I can't deny. The power of human belief works in mysterious ways… However, I've seen a lot of hatred in my day… and true hatred doesn't _kneel in blood_ before dozens of onlookers and cry their heart out." He looked at Shotaro sympathetically. "Before you were her enemy, or her _prince,_ you were her dear friend and childhood companion. That hasn't changed. Her anger and disappointment just kept it subdued for a very long time. I don't think she ever really wanted to see you hurt... Consider yourself lucky. This is something I can salvage."

Sho could hardly wrap his brain around the idea. The words bounced back and forth in his mind, slowly beginning to flow together and make sense. Before he could formulate a proper response to the outlandish explanation, the doctor adjusted his coat and strode across the room.

"Well, I suppose that's that, then." He stuck his head out the doorway of the modest room. "You got that wristband ready, son?"

Until that point, Shotaro hadn't noticed the younger doctor had left the room. Now he reentered, with a clear plastic bag holding the wristband in question.

The older man nodded to the young doctor and gestured in Shotaro's direction. "You can take it from here."

Sho watched in confusion as the younger man approached and knelt down by his bed. The guy's brown eyes were warm and empathetic. "This is going to sting just a bit."

"More than getting flattened like a pancake?" was the sardonic response.

He laughed lightly, "Not quite."

Shotaro watched in confusion as the young doctor pulled the simple white band from the bag and tightened it around his right wrist. It showed only his full name, in bold, blocky letters, a date, and a small number. **182.**

"What is - AAGH!" Sho jerked his arm back, startled by the shock that rippled up his arm when the ends snapped together. He tried to shake the buzzing, electrifying sensation, but failed. The wristband seemed even tighter than before. He couldn't even fit in a finger to separate it from the raw skin beneath.

"This is going to serve as your reminder, Shotaro." The younger man said. "See the date beneath your name? That's the date you _expired,_ putting it mildly _._ And that is the date you will return to if you fail. Everything that has happened up until this point will stay the same." He reached down and began carefully removing the tubes from Sho's arm. " _However,_ you see that small number? 1-8-2?"

Shotaro nodded.

"That's your due date. 182 days adds up to roughly about six months from now. Or rather, six months from where you're going. If you can prove to myself, my father, and our associate, that you've changed and turned it around, you get your life back."

Sho blinked disbelievingly. "I… I get what?"

The young doctor proceeded without a hitch, all business, as he rearranged and unplugged contraptions that were connected to Shotaro, the bed, and the equipment around them. "If we can see that you've fundamentally changed, become someone worthy of having a girl like Kyoko, your second chance becomes permanent. But let me _warn_ you…" The guy gave Shotaro a solemn look, "if you don't take this seriously, you won't much like the alternative."

The older man returned to his bedside, nodding in agreement. "This is going to take more than some sweet nothings and a love song, Shotaro. The person she _was_ is going to make it a lot easier on you than the person she is now. _We_ won't let you off easy, even if she tries to. Don't think about how to best improve your life, kiddo. Think about how to improve _hers_."

Sho had too many questions. There was too much he didn't understand. But he couldn't voice them or demand any kind of explanation, as he found a mask being strapped to his face immediately after. He thrashed and pulled away in panic, but the younger doctor was surprisingly strong and subdued him easily, though not painfully.

Even as his vision blurred and eyes grew heavy, he could hear the old doctor's parting words, as he felt the man's weathered hands stroke his head.

"Remember, love isn't about what you can get, but rather what you can give. Even if the bigger picture doesn't necessarily include you in it... Think about _her_ , and the rest will come easy… Good luck, buddy."

And the world around Shotaro disappeared.

 _ **~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**_

"Oh, good! You're waking up!"

Jerking awake in a panic was becoming a new trend for him, it seemed. Sho gasped and shot up in the bed… the unusually comfortable and spacious bed. What happened to his itchy sheets and generic, mint-colored blanket?

"I was so worried last night, Sho-chan… you came home in such a funk, and then your forehead was hot and you didn't even know where you were and then you went to bed and you wouldn't even wake up for your soup and I wanted to call the doctor but I'm a little short on money right now because rent is coming up and I know we lost your insurance card in the move and - _oh_ , I'm sorry! Here I am rambling when you're feeling poorly. Here, let me change that cooling pad..."

Shotaro could barely understand the jumbled speech. Something about the cheery, worker bee tone struck a cord. Where had he heard it? His vision was blurry. He could see the outline of the person buzzing around the room. A dark ponytail and horrendously yellow cardigan. Tiny, bright, and energetic.

"K- K…." No. It couldn't be. Surely not. He was back in Shoko's place. He must have been. This whole night had just been a jumbled up series of bad dreams. He'd eaten something rancid and lost his mind for 12 hours. That's all it was.

"Ah… " The busy bee squatted by his bedside and pulled away the pad stuck to his forehead, replacing it with fresh, cool one. "Much better, right?" She stood back up, wiping her hands on her little waist apron and pulling a thermometer from one of its pockets.

That wasn't right. He didn't think Shoko owned an apron, much less knew how to use the old fashioned glass thermometer currently being shoved under his tongue. "Mmmph!" He groaned, everything in him wanting to spit the horrid thing out.

"Now, Sho," The bee said placatingly, "I know you don't like things stuck in your mouth, but it's going to _help_ you. We need to see if your fever is down. You've got a gig tonight, remember? You'll be really upset if you miss this one. You wrote that new song and everything…" Her voice faded as she fiddled with the glass tube and pushed it farther under his tongue. He wanted to gag.

As the bee carefully kept time on her outdated leather watch, the blinding light around her and their surroundings began to softly fade. The room was simple. Beige walls. A keyboard here, a guitar there. A haphazardly placed stool in the corner. Crumpled notebook paper covering nearly every visible square inch of the flooring. An overturned trashcan that had no doubt been raided for a misplaced page of sheet music. Emptied strawberry pudding packs piled up on the dresser… Strawberry pudding? He never ate that in front of-

"All done!" The death stick - also known as mercury-in-glass thermometer - was thankfully removed from his mouth. "Oh, good… 37 °C. Looks like you're much better than before!" She wiped the device on her apron and tucked it back in the pocket. When she squatted down to his level with a small bowl of soup in hand, the glaring light outlining her features faded.

Sho's heart seized in his chest; his muscles seemed paralyzed. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

It was her.

It was really _her._ Her hair was so long. Had it always been that way? He'd forgotten. Her face was softer, rounder than he remembered. But her eyes - those big, honey brown eyes - were exactly the same. Well, almost. They stared at him, innocent and wide, practically a doorway to the pure, sunny, and unscathed soul behind them. On impulse, Sho reached out and buried his hand in her loose ponytail. It was silky and soft. Why had he never noticed these things?

Her wide eyes were comparatively much wider at this point. She jerked back slightly, pulling away from his hand. He hadn't tried to touch her that way before, had he? _Was I blind?_

"Did you hit your head? You need to be more careful when you're riding that motor bike, Sho-chan. I know you think it's uncool, but it's not safe not to go without a helmet!"

The very Kyoko-like speech - albeit more mild than he was now accustomed to - was strangely comforting. She hesitated, looking like she expected to be reprimanded for the reprimand. Seeing her look so uncertain, so concerned, without a hint of resentment or suspicion, he had to admit was undeniably cute.

Sho found himself smiling, unable to resist reaching out and brushing the dark, disheveled bangs from her eyes. "You're right… I'm glad you're here… Thank you… for everything." He wasn't sure where he was going with this, but the words came tumbling out of his mouth without warning.

This proved too much for Kyoko's pure heart, it seemed, and the hair touching - combined with a selection of words that had probably never before escaped Shotaro Fuwa's mouth in the same sentence - was enough to make her dump half a bowl of miso soup across the comforter.

"Agh! I'm sorry!" She yelped, forgetting her initial shock and springing into action. Thankfully, the soup she'd been holding onto had had time to cool before decorating his lap, so Sho was saved from an unexpected, early morning scalding.

In what seemed merely an instant, Kyoko had gathered his heather gray comforter by its four corners and removed it swiftly, before it could stain anything else. And as he'd done since his childhood, the soft white sheets he'd slept in had been effectively kicked to the foot of the bed, leaving whatever he happened to be wearing in plain view. Seeing the baggy white tee and _Soul Eater_ boxer shorts, Shotaro felt his own face heat up to match the scarlet hue of Kyoko's.

 _I don't even remember putting these on… Did she... change me?_ The redness crawled up to the tips of his ears at this notion. He could hardly believe himself. _What're you, thirteen? This is Kyoko we're talking about. Get a grip!_

"Ugh, what a mess. I'm so sorry. I'll get this in the wash right away. Are you okay, Sho-chan? It didn't burn you, did it? I can't believe I did that… what a waste!" The rambling escaped with its owner down the hallway before Sho could even formulate a response. He immediately attempted to go after her, suddenly panicked at the idea that, if she disappeared from sight now, she would somehow evaporate altogether from this new reality.

Sho didn't get far, though, as he had the misfortune of stepping directly on the tip of a mechanical pencil discarded on the floor. And seeing as that the sensation was right up on the pain index between stepping on a lego brick and being stabbed in the leg with a prison shiv, one could easily excuse his muffled scream. He stumbled across the hazardously littered floorboards and grabbed onto the nearest piece of steady furniture - his dresser, in this case.

However, his pain was quickly forgotten when he got a good look of himself in the mirror.

"...the hell?" Shotaro breathed, reaching out to touch the startling image across from him. "When did I shrink!?" He was a good seven, eight centimeters shorter than he ought to have been. That extra height had been hard-won and and slow-going; to him, the idea was akin to losing an entire limb. On top of that despair, his hair was much shorter, his face much softer. Combined with the uninspired white tee and embarrassing boxers, he looked almost entirely ordinary. The realization was enough to make him want to collapse again.

Sho lifted a hand off of his dresser when he noticed the papers he had unwittingly crushed under his palm. Unfolding them, he wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar, messy words scrawled across the pages. "Did I really write this garbage? Geez…" Fully prepared to ball the nonsensical waste of time back up, something out of the corner of his eye commanded his attention.

There was an exotic sports car themed calendar on the wall just a few feet away. Nothing all that extraordinary about it. It hung crookedly and had clearly been tacked back into the wall a handful of times. What stood out to him wasn't the sleek lamborghini or its questionably dressed driver… but rather the year that was printed in bold letters under the word _December._

"What?" He murmured.

That was… one, two… _three_ years ago. How could… surely it wasn't… he wasn't… Sho's eyes dropped down and scanned the dates circled throughout the month. Vaguely familiar names and places were scribbled in every circled space… names and places he hadn't thought about in ages. A nightclub he had faked an ID to perform in… the cafe where he'd held his first regular gig… the open mic nights at that one western-style restaurant… addresses for potential recording opportunities. The schedule was hectic, disorganized, and irregular, yet he still knew it like the back of his hand.

 _Dear God, it really is… Wait. What's today's date?_

His eyes frantically followed the red marker that X-ed out each day from the 1st to the… to the _21st._

The memories came rushing back in like a deluge. The award ceremony. The ring. The accident. The hospital. The warning. It pounded his skull like a meat cleaver. He momentarily lost control of the pace of his breathing.

" _If we can see that you've fundamentally changed… become someone worthy... your second chance becomes permanent… let me warn you… don't take this seriously… won't much like the alternative... "_ The words resonated in the forefront of his mind like the beating of a drum.

They looped and replayed in his head, refusing to release their hold on him. Shotaro was unable to look away from the uncrossed date before his eyes. The blank, white square pulsed in his vision, as thick black lettering began to slowly appear across the empty space.

 **LOG: Day - 1**

 **...**

 **Remaining Days - 181**

 **...**

 **Consider me unimpressed.**

 **Surely you can do better, Sho.**

 **...**

 **-Dr. G**

"What!" was the irate response from the not-quite pop star. "It's only been a few minutes! You try waking up three years in the past and eight centimeters shorter! See how well you take it, geezer!"

The only response Sho received was a jarring shock to his right wrist. Looking down, he was unnerved to see the snug white wristband exactly where they had left it. The name and date were still the same... but the small number blinked once, the bold **182** changing swiftly to a **181**.

"Dammit…" He growled, shaking away the pain and glaring at the calendar in vexation. So this was how it was going to be? He'd barely even had the opportunity to-

"SHO-CHAN!"

Shotaro jumped a whole foot in the air, whirling around, but not before guiltily shoving the offending hand behind his back. He didn't know how to explain the bizarre new accessory.

"Y-yeah?" So much for subtlety.

The Kyoko bobbing in his doorway was now fully devoid of all embarrassment or discomfort the last fifteen minutes had culminated between them. She was bouncing from foot to foot, her sparkling aura almost tangible from across the room.

"You have to pick up the phone! Right now! There's a man on the phone and he said he's with Akitoki! _Akitoki_ , Sho! Hurry! Pick it up! Pick it up!"

Her words just barely registered in Shotaro's mind. Seeing Kyoko so absolutely happy for _his_ sake was alien, mind boggling, nearly incomprehensible. This was how things used to be? Why were his memories of the time before their separation so vague? A familiar guilt gnawed at his conscience.

" _Shooo-chan,_ " She practically howled, "The phone! Hurry!"

He didn't know what Kyoko was referring to until she flapped her arms in the general direction of his bed. Beside the bed was a table, and on that table was a cordless landline, the keys flashing green with a waiting call.

He moved hesitantly towards the phone and lifted it from its dock, staring at the familiar name and number displayed across the screen. He glanced back up at her, uncertain. If this was three years ago, if he was still playing cafes and restaurant venues, then he hadn't been signed yet? Had he even auditioned?

Kyoko widened her eyes at him, as if trying to telepathically move his finger to the call button. He heeded the crazy expression and heard the line connect. He took a steadying breath.

"Hello?"

With a hand over her mouth in excitement, Kyoko quietly closed the door to give him privacy. Shotaro wished she hadn't gone. Whenever Kyoko disappeared from his sight, she seemed to take any fragile remnants of comfort and security with her.

"Fuwa-san?" A crisp, composed voice came through the speaker.

He nearly forgot to respond. "Speaking…"

"Ah, yes. My name is Kirihito Kaguragi. I am calling you on behalf of Haruto Edogawa, of Akitoki's singing division, to inform you that the agency has reviewed your demo and is interested in having you in for an interview."

Shotaro blinked, trying to connect names with faces and fit them on the timeline that he appeared to be repeating. A lot of change can happen in three years, after all. Was Edogawa even with Akitoki any more? Well, more accurately, was he with them three years from now? Sho seemed to recall some big debacle surrounding that one.

" _Fuwa-san_?" Kaguragi repeated, notably less patient than before. He was never an even-tempered man to begin with.

"Yes?" Sho knew he needed to focus if he was going to get anywhere. "I'm listening."

"Well, then..." Shuffling paper could be heard in the background, followed by a moment of typing. "Can we expect as soon as tomorrow morning?"

"Well, uh, I - maybe -"

"I'd take the morning slot if I were you, Fuwa-san... As we like to say in showbiz, the early bird catches the worm, but the slow, indecisive bird gets left behind in an endless cycle of disappointment and despair." This was followed by a queer little chuckle that Sho was all too familiar with.

As far as he knew, _no one_ liked to say that, then again, no one ever accused accused Kirihito Kaguragi of being a little ray of sunshine either.

"Ah… well, in that case, tomorrow morning sounds great."

"Excellent. Be prompt. Lateness will be considered a withdrawal."

And the line cut off.

* * *

 **End of Part 2**

 **Ah! I wasn't expecting it would be so difficult to finish this chapter. It's hard to find time to write, I've realized, lol, but I will persevere! Because of the way the pacing ended up, I imagine the story will be closer to 4 parts, now, minimum. I look forward to seeing how it goes!  
**

 **As always, you are wonderful for reading all of that, and even more wonderful for taking the time to review. It really makes updating worthwhile. Thank you!**

 **Love,**

 **A Bagel**


End file.
